by Tom Reilly
“Never go to excess, but let moderation be your guide.”
Marcus Tullius Cicero, a master of Latin prose, righteous pagan, consul to the Roman Empire, philosopher, and orator penned those words.
It’s golf season, which means I agonize over every aspect of my game to gain that one stroke advantage over my last best round. I choose the right shirt, shorts, shoes and glove. I fill my bag with all of the right clubs—14 of them, a small subset of what’s in my golf cabinet and basement storage area. I choose orange tees from the rainbow of colors because I’m biased. And then there is the problem of balls.
There are five types of golf ball construction available, each specifically designed for a particular style of play. One piece, two piece all the way to five. Dimple patterns, compression, spin, launch, feel and color complicate the decision process. I have narrowed my choices to a half-dozen. It’s overwhelming. And this is the problem. It’s not just about golf balls, but this is a great metaphor for a phenomenon that people deal with today. I call this the misery of choices. All of us like the idea of choice but despise the act of choosing. And marketers know this. I know this. I was a purveyor of this philosophy for thirty-six years.
The misery of choices afflicts the affluent. This overwhelming number of options comes from a plethora of plenty. Naturally, decision anxiety surrounds the opulence of options.
A walk down the cereal aisle at the grocery store includes an ambush by choice. Thank God for the donut case which only offers a couple of dozen ways to raise my blood sugar. I try to eat healthy at times but there are 2,500 varieties of apples in North America. I drink plenty of water but that presents another choice challenge when I go to Costco. Do you know how many bottled water options they have? And it’s a good thing that with all these food options that I have a closet full of colors, sizes, and styles, even though 80% of what I wear comes from 20% of my wardrobe. Thank God I have only one car, though I’ve been thinking of a new one lately. I can’t really do anything about that right now because of the chips and parts shortages affecting new models. I’ll probably have to wait a couple of years for supply to catch up with this crazy demand. Thank God for this wonderful inconvenience. I bought a new cell phone a couple of months ago and only had to choose from about a half dozen alternatives. When I worked, I had eight suits, fifty dress shirts, a couple of dozen ties, and six pairs of dress shoes, mostly because I didn’t want the audiences to think I only wore blue.
I am disturbed writing this and distraught reading it. I really have bought into this eccentricity of extravagance. A surplus of anything really is too much of a good thing. Only in the lands of plenty would a people complain of too many choices. Here are my choices this week:
I prayed this morning and read from one of my four bibles. Thankfully, I worship only one God.
If I play golf today, which set of golf clubs will I play with today? To pen this essay, I have dozens of fountain pens to select from and a variety of colors and brands of ink to fill the pen. Editing this piece caused me to stare at the bookshelf of six dictionaries to consult. I handwrote this essay on one of my three desks and typed it on another. While editing, I’m drinking coffee out of my favorite of six preferred mugs. Fortunately, I’m drinking drip coffee out of one of the three coffee machines we own. Of course, I could have chosen an expresso, another favored option. Once typed, I have a choice of two printers to feed this essay.
If not golf, which motorcycle will I ride? Boots are good for riding my bike and I will select one from the five I own after I choose which pair of the six jeans I own and one of three dozen Harley tee shirts. Thank God I only have one leather motorcycle jacket, but then I have two high-viz textile jackets and since it’s still warm, I will wear my half-shell helmet versus full-face or three-quarters face.
I may get fast food for lunch. I wonder how many places can I buy a hamburger? MacDonald’s, Hardees, Burger King, Wendy’s, Freddy’s, Rally’s, White Castle, Jack in the Box, Smash Burger, Culver’s or Five Guys. But I long for a Steak and Shake. You always want what you can’t have. We need more options in the Ellisville/Chesterfield area. Then again, PBJ sounds good. I have one jar of peanut butter and one jar of jelly. No wasted time ruminating on my silly options.
We may go out for dinner this evening and I’m leaning toward Mulligans. Darn, Mulligans is closed on Mondays because of the labor shortages. No shortages on the menu, though. Which of the 17 appetizers would I order, or the 10 salads will I eat, and at 24 choices of sandwiches? Not to worry, I eat the same thing every time so I don’t have to look at the menu. And of the dozen-plus option of brews to wash it all down, I only drink one these days. Damn, I love being predictable.
At this point, I am thoroughly disgusted with myself and embarrassed by my conspicuous consumption. I have languished in my lavish lifestyle and taken Oscar Wilde’s quote “Everything in moderation, including moderation” to a new level. I’m living the philosophy: If one is good, two is better, and three is not enough. Maybe I need to go back and read some Cicero.
Copyright 2021 Tom Reilly
Tom Reilly is the author of 16 books.
